After the World Ends
by Worldomination
Summary: The coming of the Scourge and the Culling of Stratholme rip Kaya away from her family and force her to face a part of herself she'd rather ignore. After her world ends, will she be able to rebuild her life?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own some of the elements of this story; certain place names, plot elements, and characters are property of Blizzard, Inc, and are used out of appreciation for the radness that is World of Warcraft. In other words: I love you, Blizzard, please don't sue me.

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**Chapter One: Things Fall Apart**

Kaya clutched her husband's charm in one soot-covered, trembling hand and begged the Light for aid. The Prince's forces were still moving through the city—she could hear the screams of the innocent citizens and the monstrosities some of them had become—but her main concern now was the fire. Besides the flames themselves, the smoke they caused was pervasive and carried a rotten, roasting meat smell which dizzied and sickened her. Though she kept trying to tell herself otherwise, in her gut Kaya was certain that she would lose everything here in this nightmarish city. Even as she ran and prayed, part of her was saying goodbye to her husband, her daughter, and everything else she loved.

As she paused to gasp for breath, Kaya heard a voice shouting commands in the square ahead. The sounds of the city tearing itself apart made it difficult to understand exactly what was being said, so she crept cautiously closer. It looked like Arthas and his followers had already been through this part of the city, if the corpses strewn on the ground were any indication. Still, if the voice belonged to one of the Prince's men, following it could result in her death. On the other hand, if it belonged to someone else, one of the citizens organizing an escape, perhaps…

Things got quieter as she got closer to the square, and at last she could make out what the voices were saying. "Ranulf, get as many of the reagents as you can carry from the basement. Sesca, is the circle almost done?"

"Almost there, Summoner."

"Summoner, what about the wards? They could be traced back to us if—"

"Destroy them. My minion will aid you."

_Minion?_ Kaya thought. _Then these people are warlocks?_ Kaya shuddered at the thought of asking that kind of person for help, but leaving with them gave her a better chance of survival than staying where the fires—or worse—could get to her.

In her rush to move forward, Kaya stopped watching where she was going. Something caught the hem of her dress, causing her to fall face-first on the ground. She looked back reflexively and screamed at the sight which confronted her. The thing that grasped her hem might have been human until just recently. Now, it was the embodiment of decay and malevolent hunger. Its skin was corpse-gray except for the places covered by scabs and sores, it reeked with the sourness of lasting illness, and despite its emaciation, when it switched its grip from her hem to her ankle, its fingers squeezed hard enough to cut off circulation.

Kaya screamed again in defiance and fear and kicked the abomination in the face. She heard the cartilage in its nose crunch, felt the impact of the kick run up her leg, but the corpse-thing seemed unfazed. It let out a phlegm-y growl and started pulling itself up her leg. Desperately, Kaya felt around her for some kind of weapon, but there was nothing nearby. As the thing got closer to her waist, the charm around her neck began to grow warm. When it started to glow, the corpse hissed and shrank back marginally.

"_This will protect you from evil. Uther himself blessed it in the name of the Light. Keep it with you always, and know that even if I'm not by your side, I love you with all my heart and will do everything in my power to keep you safe_." That was what Fallon had told her on their wedding day. She had been a little embarrassed at the time, but she hadn't once removed the chain and pendant after he fastened them around her neck. Now, she reached up with both hands, yanked until the chain broke, and thrust the charm at the abomination. When the gold touched the corpse-thing's forehead, the flesh sizzled. The undead yowled in pain and released Kaya's ankle, its hands flying up to the smoking skin of its face.

Kaya scrambled to her feet and turned to run, but she froze again before she could take more than a few steps. Other corpses were twitching, opening their eyes, pushing themselves to their feet…blocking off the entrance to the square. One of the undead, a female, seemed more intent, more controlled than the rest. Her gaze landed on Kaya, and to Kaya's horror, the thing emitted a rusty sound which might have been a laugh.

"What have we here? Breakfast for the troops, I think." The other corpses looked to the female speaker as if for direction, and she raised one discolored hand to point at Kaya. "If you hunger, brothers and sisters of the Scourge, your sustenance stands defenseless before you. By all means, sate yourselves!" With that, the "troops" surged forward, arms outstretched and hands grasping, crying out in wordless hunger.

Once again, Kaya frantically looked around for a weapon, any weapon, but the debris around her was too small to be any use. Finally, Kaya looked back down to the charm, still dangling in one hand. The circular gold pendant was glowing brighter than before and giving off enough warmth to be too hot to hold on its own. Inspiration struck, and she adjusted her grip on the chain. As the group of Scourge advanced, Kaya began spinning the charm on its chain in front of her like a radiant shield, praying that it would be enough of a deterrent.

The "troops" did pause, shielding their eyes, some of them growling or hissing, but the female leader snarled at them, "What are you doing? You act as if a mere trinket could stop the might and will of the Scourge! Fine, I will give you a glimpse of the power the Lich King has granted us!" She raised both hands and spoke a series of fluid but somehow nauseating words, and the charm began to cool and darken. When she finished, the charm was completely encased in blue-green ice, and when she shouted one last word, both the ice and the charm shattered.

Kaya flung one arm over her eyes, but flying shards of metal and ice still left numerous cuts on her face, arms, and shoulders. The charm threw out one last burst of light as it exploded, obliterating the Scourge closest to Kaya and incapacitating nearly all the rest. The only undead left standing was the female leader, who screamed in ire as her display of power backfired.

"NO! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE WORM! I will make you curse the day your mother met your father, and once I finally kill you, I will raise you from death so that I may torture you again!"

Kaya tried to run back the way she had come, but the undead was faster. She grabbed Kaya by the hair and pulled sharply backwards. Then, while Kaya's balance was off, the undead switched her grip to Kaya's neck, turned the terrified woman so that they were facing, and with unnatural strength, lifted her off the ground.

As Kaya kicked and gasped for breath, the undead gloated, "Perhaps I won't stop with you, after all. Perhaps, after I raise you, I will subject you to my will and make you lead me to your loved ones. You destroyed my little family; it seems only fair that I return the favor."

Kaya went completely still. Memories of her husband and daughter flashed through her mind: the day she met Fallon on the road to Andorhal, their first kiss and how brightly he had blushed afterward, the way little Lia had stared up when the midwife placed her in Kaya's arms, Lia's laughter as Fallon gave her her first pony ride on her third birthday. They were safe now (or so Kaya desperately hoped), but this thing with its cold hand wrapped around Kaya's throat wanted to bring them harm. Kaya imagined her undead self leading the female Scourge to the little cottage in the woods, imagined Fallon trying and failing to fight her off, imagined Lia's face as the little girl realized that there was something wrong with Mama. _No! I can't let that happen. I _won't _let that happen._ Kaya felt the rage and determination spread through her limbs like fiery quicksilver. Red-tinged shadows crowded around the edge of her vision, then obscured it completely. One thought registered before she lost consciousness.

_I will _NOT _let you hurt them._

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_Earlier that day…_

Fallon was sweating beneath his armor. The day was actually cool for late summer, with rain clouds gathering to the north and blocking the sun, but he was dreading the upcoming mission. His fellow paladins were their usual selves, joking with each other, praying, doing whatever they normally did to mentally prepare themselves for a battle. All Fallon knew was that Arthas had requested their aid, and though he trusted the prince, he still had a terrible feeling that this particular fight would not end well. He took off his helm and let it rest on his saddle horn, hoping that a stray breeze would come and dry the fear-sweat that soaked his hair. The men and women behind him began to murmur, and he turned to see what was going on. When he saw who was riding towards him, he bowed at the waist and, putting one hand over his heart in salute, said, "Light keep you, Sir Uther."

The Lightbringer returned the gesture. "And the same to you, my son." As he slowed his horse's pace to match Fallon's, he continued, "You've seemed distracted this whole ride. Are you feeling all right?"

Fallon blinked, then looked down the road, where Stratholme was just coming into sight. "Truthfully, sir, I've been feeling rather…anxious…ever since we set out."

"Worried about your family, perhaps? I know you're one of the only knights in this group with children."

Fallon smile ruefully. "I'm always worried about my family. I've become accustomed to that, but this—" His smile faded. "This is different. I can't put my finger on it, exactly, but something feels off. Sir, the messenger who came to my house didn't know any specifics. I might feel more confident if I had a better idea of what we're riding into."

Uther sighed. "With any luck, we're riding into an opportunity to take down the mastermind behind the destruction of Andorhal." He paused, then, shaking his head, continued, "Mal'Ganis must be stopped, but…" Uther trailed off.

"But Arthas, the stubborn fool, seems almost _too_ invested in defeating the demon." The voice came suddenly from Fallon's other side and conveyed equal parts exasperation and affection.

Fallon jerked his head around, causing his horse to sidle anxiously, but when he recognized the speaker, he bowed again. "Lady Proudmoore, forgive me. I did not hear you approach."

Jaina Proudmoore smiled. "Good. That means my skills aren't getting rusty."

"There you are, Jaina," Uther said. "I've been wanting to speak with you. Will you excuse us, Fallon?"

Fallon nodded, and the other two trotted forward until they were a few yards ahead of the rest of the paladins. Fallon was left with his worries once more, and though he tried to pray, he couldn't focus properly. Before he knew it, they had arrived at the gates of Stratholme. The thunderclouds above finally broke open, and great sheets of rain began to pound the landscape. Uther ordered the paladins to halt, and he and Jaina approached Arthas on their own.

Fallon was too far back to hear all of the conversation, but he managed to catch a few words and phrases, and what he heard did nothing to calm his fears. "…just a matter of time…undead…" "…purge this city!" "…not my king yet, boy!..." "…treason." "…relieve you of your command…" Fallon was not the only one who realized something was wrong; his fellow paladins were disciplined enough not to talk amongst themselves, but many of them looked uncomfortable.

Arthas turned from Uther and Jaina to the paladins gathered on the road and shouted to them, "Those of you who have the will to save this land, follow me! The rest of you…get out of my sight!" Now the paladins began to whisper to each other. A handful broke off immediately and went to the prince's side, but the rest waited until Uther came back to them and explained the situation: many of Stratholme's citizens were infected with the plague of undeath, and Arthas' solution was to raze the entire city. The paladins were silent for a moment, then all began asking questions at once.

Uther held up both hands and called for silence. After the general outcry had died down, he continued, "I have been relieved of command, so I must leave it up to you whether you stay or go. If you stay, you may help save many of the people of Lordaeron, but you will almost certainly take innocent lives in the process. If you go, you will be suspended from official service as a paladin, possibly permanently." Uther looked as if he wanted to say more, but he remained silent. In a daze, he walked to his horse, mounted, and rode off, all without saying another word. His former subordinates remained silent, as well. After a few moments' consideration, some of them moved to join the rest of the prince's forces marching into Stratholme.

Fallon watched them with disgust. The thought of what those men and women were about to do made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn't see any way of stopping them. He was in no position to command them, and if they truly believed they were in the right, he wasn't sure if he could talk them out of their decision. Part of him wanted to ride up to Arthas himself and demand that the prince think of a better solution, but Fallon had seen the look in his eyes. It had been the look of a man ready to destroy everything he loved, so long as it didn't fall into the hands of his enemy. It had been the look of a man whose mind was intact, though his heart had gone insane.

Fallon scrubbed one hand over his face, as if that would erase the events he had just witnessed, then turned his horse and galloped towards home. As he rode, new worries crowded into his mind—would there be repercussions for Uther, for himself? Would Arthas succeed in containing the plague, or would it continue to spread? Would Fallon be able to keep his family safe in Lordaeron, or should they leave? All he knew for sure was that he needed to see Lia, needed to speak with Kaya, as soon as possible. When he finally pulled up at the path to his cottage, his heart skipped a beat. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and no light shone in the windows despite the growing darkness of the stormy day. Fallon dismounted in a hurry and ran up the path to the cottage door. There was a note tacked onto it, and Fallon could just barely make out Kaya's messy, rain-smeared handwriting. It said, "I should be back before you come home, but just in case: had to go to Stratholme for medicine, left Lia with the Burnses. Be back before sundown, at latest. There's leftover stew, if you want to feed Lia an early dinner. Love you, Kaya." Fallon, his heart beating hard enough to damage his ribcage, ripped the note off the door and ran down the forest path to the neighboring cottage. If Kaya had gone to Stratholme, he should have passed her on the road at some point. And what had she meant when she said she needed medicine?

There was light behind the curtained windows of this cottage—that much, at least, was comforting. Fallon pounded on the door until his neighbor, Dunlarren Burns, yanked it open. "What in the Twisting Nether—Fallon, what's wrong? You look like death warmed over."

"Dunnie, please tell me Kaya is here with you."

"What? No, she left Lia with us a few hours ago. Said she had to go pick up old Mrs. Turnkey's arthritis medicine from the apothecary in Stratholme." Fallon pushed past him into the interior of the house, and Dunnie followed, continuing his explanation. "The poor old woman can barely get out of bed these days, and with her sons gone off to train in Silverpine…Fallon, what are you doing?"

"Where's Lia?"

"She's out in the shed, helping the missus make jam. Fallon, you're scaring me. What in the name of the Light is going on?"

"Go get them and bring them in here. I'll explain then." Dunnie stared in mute shock until Fallon shouted, "Just do it!"

As Dunnie went to get his wife, Fallon knelt by the cottage's small hearth. A fire was crackling in the grate, but it was running mostly on coals, and the flames were hardly impressive. Fallon put more logs on, then reached into the pouch at his hip and pulled out a small vial full of clear liquid. He said a quick prayer over the vial and watched as it began to give off light. When it was about as bright as a candle flame, he threw the vial on the fire, shattering the delicate glass. The liquid it contained, rather than dousing the small fire, caused it to flare up. The flames were white-gold now, and their warmth seemed to sink not just into Fallon's bones, but into his soul. He drew as much of his courage together as he could muster, then turned to the door just as Dunnie and his wife, Hilda, walked in. Fallon breathed a sigh of profound relief when he saw little Lia walk in with them, her face and hands smeared with jam. Part of him had believed that she might have disappeared completely, but here she was, safe and sticky as a three-year-old should be. When she saw him, she broke away from Hilda and ran towards him crying, "Daddy!"

Fallon scooped the girl into his arms. "There's my little mischief-maker. But where's Goldie?" Lia looked around the room for her favorite toy, a stuffed lion, then pointed across the room. "Can you go play with him there for a bit? I need to talk to Uncle Dunnie and Auntie Hilda."

Something in Fallon's tone must have betrayed his tension. Lia tilted her head as she looked at her father, and a small crease formed between her eyebrows. "What's wrong, Daddy?"

"Just go play, all right?" Fallon set her down and gently nudged her in the direction of the stuffed toy. When she was far enough away, he motioned Dunnie and Hilda closer. "Listen very closely, and try not to panic. Stratholme is being purged as we speak. This illness that so many have been coming down with? Uther said it was actually a plague of undeath. Arthas and his men hope to stop it from spreading any further by killing everyone in the city—infected or not. Uther and most of my order refused to aid the prince, but the forces already under his command are enough to carry out his plan. Now, I need some information from you: when did Kaya leave, and which route did she take?"

Hilda looked at the gnome-made clock on the mantelpiece, her normally rosy cheeks now bone-white. "She dropped Lia off about three hours ago. She said the main road was too crowded, so she was going to take Hunter's Path."

Fallon groaned. Hunter's Path cut a diagonal through the woods to Stratholme; Kaya would have reached the city before Uther's forces, before Arthas began his assault. Fallon could only hope that she had finished her errand quickly and had been able to escape the city limits before the purging began. "Her charm is still intact…I can feel that much. But I can't tell where she is, or if she's still ali—" Fallon couldn't finish the thought. Dunnie and Hilda said nothing, but tears were streaming down Hilda's face, and Dunnie gripped the edge of the mantel as if he was having a hard time standing on his own. Fallon swallowed back his own tears. "I have to try and find her. Can you two watch over Lia until I get back?"

Dunnie wrapped an arm around his wife. "Aye, my friend, we'll keep her safe."

Fallon nodded. "Lia, can you come over here?" Lia walked over hesitantly with Goldie clutched to her chest. "Sweetheart, I have to go away for a little while, but I promise I'll be back. While I'm gone, be good for Dunnie and Hilda, all right?"

Lia buried her face in the ruff of fur at Goldie's neck. Then she looked back up at him, a pained expression on her face. "Daddy, don't go. I don't feel good."

The paladin leaned down and kissed his daughter's forehead. "I have to go. Besides, I'll be back before you know it." Hilda motioned to Lia and picked the little girl up, running one hand comfortingly over her hair. Fallon went to Dunnie and whispered in his ear, "I put a special oil on the fire. It should continue to burn like this until I return. If it goes out, you'll know that I'm not coming back, and you need to take Hilda and Lia and get them somewhere safe. Do you still have those connections in Ironforge?"

Dunnie nodded. "We haven't written to each other in a while, but we're still on good terms." He hesitated, then blurted, "Fallon, from what you've told me, there's not much chance that Kaya is still—"

"I know, but I _have_ to try. She's my wife, Dunnie."

"Aye, I understand. But what I'm tryin' to say is, Lia might have to go through her life with just one parent, but she shouldn't have to live as an orphan. If you can't bring Kaya back, at least bring yourself out of that city alive."

Fallon just stared at Dunnie for a moment, then clapped the shorter man on the shoulder and walked out the door to find his wife.

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Thanks for reading chapter one! I love reviews and would really appreciate any suggestions/creative criticism you want to share.

"Remember: don't sweat the petty stuff, and don't pet the sweaty stuff."

--Worldomination


	2. Chapter 2: Smoke and Ashes

Disclaimer: I don't own World of Warcraft, please don't sue me, yadda yadda yadda.

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**Chapter Two: Smoke and Ashes**

Hours later, the fire still burned, but it didn't stop Dunnie and Hilda from worrying. Around sunset, they had ventured outside briefly, and they had seen the unnatural orange glow in the direction of Stratholme. They had been able to smell the smoke ever since then. Lia had been restless since her father left, but they finally coaxed her to sleep an hour or so after sunset. While the girl slept, the adults had a very quiet, very solemn discussion.

"…but if the prince's plan works, we won't have to worry about the plague. Life could just go back to normal."

Hilda scowled at her husband. "I'm not worried about the results of his highness' plan, I'm worried that he came up with it at all. He's our future king, Dunlarren. Do you really want to live under the rule of someone capable of such an atrocity? Because I don't, not when there are other options. And what if, Light forbid, Fallon can't find Kaya? His life would never go back to normal; he would always know that Lordaeron was saved at the cost of innocent lives, and it wouldn't be just an abstract thought for him."

Dunnie ran a hand through his thinning hair, and after staring at the fire for a few moments, he whispered, "All right. If—_when_—Fallon gets back, we'll tell him that we're going to Ironforge, and we'll ask him to come with us. I can't imagine he…or Kaya…would want to stay here after all that's happened today."

Hilda slipped her arms around her husband. "Dunnie, I'm so frightened for Fallon and Kaya. If our positions were reversed, if you were trapped in that city…I'd be going out of my mind with worry. I've been praying since Fallon left, but I wish there were more I could do."

"Just keep praying, love. That's all we can do right now."

Some time later, Hilda was asleep in a chair by the fire, but Dunnie was still awake. In his mind, he was going over what they would pack for the journey to Dun Morogh. Clothes, keepsakes, food and water, his gear and weapons from his adventuring days…two things ripped him from his musings. First, the fire in the hearth sputtered for a moment, then the flames lost their unusual white-gold tone and returned to normal. Second, Dunnie heard a faint knock on the door, and an even fainter voice said, "Dunnie, it's Fallon. Let me in."

Dunnie opened the door and felt his hopes die when he saw that Fallon was alone. Then he noticed some of the other details: Fallon's normally dark hair was grey with ash and soot, his face was haggard, and his armor was dented and punctured in several places. Grime- and bloodstained bandages peeked out through most of the holes in the plate armor, but one wound in the paladin's side was uncovered and oozing blood.

"Dunnie, I…Light save me, I couldn't find her. I felt her charm break—kept looking anyway. Searched everywhere, but…" Fallon was shaking, whether from sorrow, blood loss, or some combination of the two, Dunnie couldn't tell. Tears rolled freely down his face, but he either didn't know or didn't care. "She's really gone." Fallon's knees buckled, and he half fell, half caught himself on the edge of the door.

Dunnie ducked under his neighbor's arm and helped the larger man into the cottage. Hilda, awakened by the noise, saw the state Fallon was in and immediately went to the cupboard which contained their bandages and emergency healing potions. Dunnie set Fallon down in the chair Hilda had just left and began removing the paladin's helm, shoulder guards, and breastplate. "By the Titans, boy, what happened to you?"

Fallon looked at Dunnie as if he didn't understand the question, then his eyes cleared a bit and he said, "Arthas' forces found most of the citizens before they turned, but they were too late for some. I ran into more risen plague victims than I should have. I'm not sure how the fires started, but they spread so quickly, and they didn't seem to faze the undead at all." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I don't think we'll be able to contain this. The sickness itself spreads too quickly, and its victims are so strong after they turn. I think this will be the end of Lordaeron…maybe the end of everything."

"Now is not the time to be thinking like that. Here, drink this, and let me change some of those bandages." Hilda forced a vial of healing potion into Fallon's hands and glared at him until he drank it. He grimaced at the strongly medicinal taste, but his color returned, and the wound in his side stopped bleeding. Pulling out a pair of small scissors and snipping away at the old bandages, Hilda continued, "Dunnie and I decided while you were away: we're leaving for Ironforge as soon as we can pack up our things. You should come with us." Fallon opened his mouth to protest, but Hilda cut him off. "You said it yourself—Lordaeron has already fallen. It's just a matter of time now. Besides, you told us earlier that you and others of your order refused to help the prince. From what I know of Arthas, he likely saw that as a betrayal, and I doubt he'll forgive it anytime soon. If he declares you a traitor, your life could be forfeit."

"If that were to happen, at least I'd be with Kaya agai—"

Hilda slapped Fallon hard enough to leave a bright red handprint on his cheek.

"Hilda, are you out of your mind? Isn't the boy in enough pain?" Dunnie restrained his wife, who was shaking with anger.

"If Kaya were here, she would have done the exact same thing. Fallon, don't you dare say things like that. Kaya is gone, and we will all grieve later, but right now we—and especially you—need to focus on staying alive and _protecting Lia_. Or had you forgotten your daughter?"

Fallon went totally still for a moment, then looked frantically around the room until he saw Lia asleep on a pallet in the corner. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to her. She had slept soundly through the argument, but now she seemed to be in the grips of a nightmare. Fallon stared down at her, then pulled off one of his gloves and put his bare hand on her forehead. "It's all right, sweetheart, I'm here." His voice shook as he spoke, but his hand was steady. It glowed faintly, then returned to normal. The crease between Lia's eyebrows disappeared, and she stopped tossing and turning.

Dunnie and Hilda watched in tense silence as Fallon stood and looked down at his sleeping daughter. After what felt like an eternity, Fallon said, "You're right. I have to get her somewhere safe as soon as I can. Quarantines will be put in place in some areas, if they haven't been already. Getting across borders will only become harder as time goes on." Fallon faced them, and Dunnie wasn't sure whether to be glad or afraid at what he saw in his neighbor's face. Fallon's eyes were dry and his mouth was set in a firm line, but rather than looking determined, he looked as though he was dead inside. "I don't know about you, but I'm leaving tonight. If you want to stay longer, I won't stop you, but I would appreciate it if you, Dunnie, could give me the name and address of your friends in Ironforge—"

"It's all right, lad. We'll come with you. I take it we're travelling light?"

Fallon nodded. "Essentials only. I'm going to leave Lia here while I pack, but I'll be back in half an hour or so. Can you two be ready to leave by then?"

"Aye, we'll be ready," Hilda said. "But…aren't you going to tell Lia anything about why we're leaving, or…"

Fallon flinched, then his mask settled back into place. "No, not tonight. I made certain that she'll sleep until morning. Let her have one more peaceful night—I'll tell her after she wakes up."

There was nothing more to say after that. Fallon went to his home to pack what he needed, and Dunnie and Hilda got to work in their own cottage. Dunnie left his wife in charge of food and clothing while he hitched their horse to their rickety old supply cart. When that was done, he went into the loft and unearthed his old gear and their small monetary savings. They had just finished loading the cart when Fallon reappeared, leading his horse. He had changed out of his plate armor and now looked like any other farmer or woodsman. He carried a large sack over his shoulder, and more bags were tied to his horse's saddle or draped over its withers. He looked at the cart, then said simply, "Lia?"

Dunnie took the sack from Fallon and placed it in the back of the cart with their other supplies. "We left her where she was. We weren't sure if you wanted her to ride with you or in the cart."

Fallon went into the now darkened cottage and returned carrying his daughter, wrapped in a blanket, in one arm, with Goldie dangling from the other hand. "Here, Dunnie, can you hold her a minute?" Dunnie did as he was asked while Fallon hoisted himself into the saddle. "All right, I'll take her now." Dunnie handed the little girl up to her father, who settled her in front of him, one hand keeping her upright, the other holding the reins. Fallon looked down at the small head nestled against his chest, then at his neighbors. "Well? Are you two ready to go?"

Hilda didn't say anything; she just climbed onto the front seat of the cart and looked expectantly at the two men. Dunnie climbed up too, took the reins in his hands, then asked Fallon, "What route do you want to take? I would think the main road would probably be the safest bet for now."

"I agree. We'll have to cut through the woods at some point, but for now, let's stick to the road. I'll follow you."

Dunnie flicked the reins and coaxed his horse into a walk. Fallon fell in behind, and for the rest of the night, the only sounds were the clopping of the horses' hooves and the restless sighing of the wind. The countryside they passed through was eerily silent and almost completely dark. The afternoon's rain had stopped, but the clouds had stayed, and now they blanketed the sky. The moon and stars were blocked, but there was still one source of illumination: the burning city of Stratholme lit up the heavens behind the travelers with a ruddy orange glow. Even when that unholy light disappeared behind the horizon, the wind carried tiny flecks of ash and the smell of smoke and roasting meat. The travelers tried not to pay any attention to it, but the same thought occurred, in some variation or other, to all of them. _This wind will follow me for the rest of my life. I'll never be free of it, of what it represents. Years from now, I'll wake up from a nightmare, and this will be what I smell. I'll never be free of it…_

Still the travelers rode on, and bit by bit, the world fell apart behind them.

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Thanks for reading chapter two; chapter three will be up as soon as I can get it done. We'll finally find out what became of Kaya, and we'll wrap up the part of the story that happens during the Warcraft III timeline. If you have any questions/suggestions/constructive criticisms, please feel free to leave a review or send me a private message.

"Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you DO criticize them, you'll be a mile away and you'll have their shoes."

--Worldomination


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: From One Nightmare to Another**

_Fall, Year 617 of the King's Calendar_

Summoner sighed as he climbed once again into the high chair stationed by the human woman's bed. She had been unconscious since the incident at Stratholme, and now, two months later, Summoner was becoming truly worried. He had been able to heal her physical injuries with bandages and potions, but he had no idea whether or not her mind was sound. The healers of Stormwind all seemed to know at a glance what he was and refused to help him or any of his charges. Personally, he was used to the disgust and fear his kind inspired, but it enraged him that the city's priests and paladins had so quickly rejected the human woman as a patient. She had been so obviously in need; her Life Tap and Chaos Bolt had done almost as much damage to herself as they had to the thing attacking her…

Summoner's mind went back to that last day in Stratholme, as it so often did lately. The morning had started like any other: he had woken up, summoned his imp to help him translate some texts, talked Ranulf into trying a spell that should have been easy, talked Sesca out of trying a spell that would have been far too difficult, and so on. Then, in the afternoon, the screaming started. Summoner sent out an Eye of Kilrogg and saw for himself as the prince's forces began slaughtering the city's residents. All of the conventional escape routes out of the city were blocked, so he enacted Escape Plan Delta. Delta had been risky—it involved an experimental reverse summoning portal—but it had worked in the end. That was an intriguing discovery, but the human woman and the events leading to her current state were even more interesting.

That last day in the doomed city, Ranulf had just finished bringing out the last of the reagents when Summoner became aware of a commotion down one of the side streets. There was a flash of light, and then something yelled, "NO! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE WORM!"

Summoner tried to tell himself that whatever was going on down that street had nothing to do with him, but his cursed Gnomish curiosity got the better of him. "Ranulf, Sesca, you two stay here, and keep the summoning circle ready. I'll be right back. Phangorg," he called to his voidwalker, "come." The minion growled something in Demonic but followed as its master ran out of the square.

In his years as a warlock, Summoner had seen many strange and terrifying things. He thought of himself as calm and capable in dangerous or unfamiliar situations, but the scene before him stopped him in his tracks. One woman—Summoner used the term loosely since she looked more like a corpse than a human—was holding another a good six inches off the ground, and she was using only one discolored, skeletal arm. The woman being held aloft was not struggling: her arms hung at her sides and her eyes had rolled back in their sockets. Numerous shallow cuts marred her otherwise fine features, and the soot which covered her face, clothes, and hair made her look as though she had spent the day crawling in and out of chimneys.

Summoner was about to send Phangorg in to help the dangling woman when he felt a change in the atmosphere. Dark energy was already swirling around the woman on the ground, but now he felt power begin to gather around the woman in the air, as well. The cuts on her face and arms visibly deepened and lengthened. Blood poured from them and began to seep from her ears and the corners of her eyes. Rather than pooling when it hit the ground, it evaporated and rose up around the two women like a red-black mist. Summoner recognized it as a Life Tap, but it was one of the most extreme, grisly versions of that spell he'd ever seen. He watched, shocked, as the mist gathered, then solidified, around the dangling woman's left hand. Her fingers, now seeming as though they were encased in a dripping, dark red glove, twitched and curled into a tense, trembling claw. The corpse-woman remained oblivious until her victim's hand rose to eye-level and drew back as if to deliver a punch.

There was no time to react. Almost too fast to see, green and purple sparks raced down the dangling woman's arm, gathered in the sacrificed blood, and formed into a crackling missile of dark energy which shot out of the woman's hand. One moment the corpse-woman's head was firmly attached to her shoulders, the next it was nonexistent. Her body slumped to the ground, followed quickly by that of her almost-victim.

Most of Summoner's mind refused to accept what he had just seen, but part of it, the part that never seemed to stop analyzing, was telling him, _That was a Chaos Bolt. Not a fully formed one, but at that range, it didn't really matter. But how? The only warlock I've met who was capable of casting that spell was my trainer, and that was twenty-five years ago. I could've sworn that she was a nobody when I first saw her, but if she's that powerful—_

Ranulf's quavering yell broke the gnome out of his trance. "Summoner, please hurry. I don't think we can hold the circle much longer…"

Summoner shook himself and ordered Phangorg to pick up the soot-covered woman. Together, they ran back to the center of the square. Sure enough, Sesca, who was keeping the summoning circle open, was sweating and shaking from the strain. Summoner pointed to the crates stacked in the center of the circle. "Ranulf, find the strongest of our healing potions and get them into this woman." Ranulf's eyes widened at her condition and started to protest, but Summoner cut him off. "Just get her stabilized for now." He turned to his other trainee. "Sesca, tone down the power for a minute. I need to add a few sigils to include our new friend, here."

Sesca's eyes widened as she looked from her trainer to the unconscious woman still in the voidwalker's arms. "You can't mean to take her with us."

Summoner pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and made the correct markings on the cobblestones. "That is exactly what I mean to do."

"By the Legion, why?"

"Because she shows potential." _Understatement of the year—maybe the century_, Summoner thought. He turned to Ranulf and asked, "Is she ready? Good. Phangorg, lay her here." The minion did as it was commanded, and Summoner dismissed it with a thought and a wave of the hand.

The gnome directed his two apprentices into position. "Now, you both remember the instructions I gave you earlier?" They nodded. "Excellent. I'll make the necessary adjustments for the woman. You two follow your directions exactly, and pray to whatever entity will listen that this works." He took a deep breath and gathered his power around him like a blanket. "On my mark—ready…_focus…NOW!_"

A curtain of shadow enveloped the figures in the middle of the square. There was a sound somewhere between the crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder, and then the dark circle disappeared, taking the figures with it.

In the weeks since their arrival in Stormwind, Summoner and his trainees had wrapped up almost all the loose ends—they'd found permanent lodgings, replaced as many of their lost supplies as they could, and made contact with their fellow warlocks. The only remaining issue was the woman, whom Ranulf had taken to calling "Chaos," since they had no other name for her. Actually, Sesca (who had developed an immediate, intense dislike of their guest) had a few other, less complimentary names for the woman, but Summoner did his best to ignore them. After several days of trying to find someone to nurse Chaos, he had resigned himself to watching over her on his own; however, he had not anticipated that her convalescence would take so long, and his feelings of impatience and anxiety grew with every passing day.

This particular day, Summoner was trying to keep busy. He'd sent Ranulf and Sesca out on a training mission and didn't expect them to return for another two days, at least. In the meantime, he had reorganized his personal library and was trying to translate an old treatise on minion-to-master power transfers. It wasn't going very well. The archaic Orcish was giving him a headache, and his mind kept wandering to where Chaos lay, buried in blankets and still out cold. He kept thinking that her hand had twitched, or her that her head had shifted on the pillow, but when he turned to look directly at her, she was always in the exact same position as before.

Telling himself that he was being a fool, Summoner forced his attention back to his translation. He was halfway through an especially dense paragraph when he heard it: "Where am I? What happened?"

She was awake! She was sitting up! Summoner leapt from his chair, dropping the translation in his excitement. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned his imp and ordered it to get food from the kitchen. After all, the woman had been subsisting on the broth and minor healing potions Summoner had been able to force down her throat, so she had to be hungry.

He turned back to the woman to answer her questions, but the look on her face froze him in his tracks. She watched the imp leave the room with genuine fear on face, the kind expressed by people who had never seen a demon of any sort before. _But…the Chaos Bolt…if she could produce that spell, she should have had enough warlock training to at least be familiar with imps…shouldn't she?_ Summoner's excitement died and was replaced by a stomach-churning combination of curiosity and dread. What was going on here?

"Where am I?" she asked again, but this time her voice was barely audible, and her terror was obvious in the way her hands shook and her eyes darted around the room.

Summoner sighed and slowly climbed back into his chair. "You're safe, in Stormwind. And before you ask, yes, I am a warlock, and no, I don't mean you any harm."

"Stormwind? How—the last thing I remember is Stratholme, and that walking corpse saying she would…" She trailed off. Summoner waited for her to finish, but she seemed lost in thought.

"You don't remember fighting her?" Summoner broke in gently. "You employed a rather impressive Life Tap and produced a half-formed Chaos Bolt."

"A what?" She stared at him blankly, confirming his suspicions. She had no training. Even novice warlocks knew about the higher-level spells, including Chaos Bolt. The information was one of the incentives designed to help them get through the rigorous, isolating training process.

Summoner sat back in his chair and looked at his feet while he gathered his thoughts. Then he said, "Why don't I tell you my version of the story of that day? Whatever questions you have, I'll answer at the end of the story, so long as you promise to do the same for me. Will that work?" She nodded and sat, unmoving, as Summoner recounted the events of that day. When he was finished, she looked down at her own hands, as if trying to picture them doing the things she had just heard described.

"Those things you said I did—they were warlock spells?"

Summoner nodded. "Very challenging, powerful warlock spells."

"How is that possible? I'm a farmer's daughter, not a…I don't have that kind of power." She stumbled over her words, seemingly too distressed to be completely coherent.

"The evidence would suggest otherwise, my dear. Plenty of people are born with the talent to gain power over demonic forces, but they either never discover it or choose to ignore it. It also usually runs in families. Do you know of any relatives who were acknowledged warlocks, or who were shunned for some unmentioned reason?"

"Uncle Branaric," she whispered. "Mother would never speak of him, but I heard rumors. He used to travel around the orc internment camps, talking to different prisoners. I always thought he was just an orc sympathizer." She drew her knees up to her chest and braced her chin on them. "But if he was learning from them…it would make sense. The one time I met him, he felt—I don't know. Dark, maybe? But not wrong. He scared my sister, but I wasn't afraid of him. I felt connected, somehow." She closed her eyes and shuddered, causing a portion of her bangs to fall forward and partially obscure her face. When she opened them again, the anguish in them made Summoner flinch. "I don't _want_ to believe that I'm capable of—" She broke off abruptly. Her expression went blank, and her eyes focused on the lock of hair which hung down to the middle of her nose. "My hair is longer," she whispered.

"What?" Summoner said, confused at the sudden change of topic.

"My hair!" She pulled the lock in question forward to demonstrate. "How long have I been unconscious?"

Summoner's throat went dry. The woman seemed much more agitated now. Perhaps he should have started with this information? "It's been just over two months."

"No," she said, her face going as white as the sheets she was sitting on. "I have to get word to my husband, my parents; I have to let them know I'm all right. They will have been so worried. I have to write a letter, or find a mage to port me home. Please, please can you help me?"

Summoner felt sick to his stomach. In the two months since Stratholme, Lordaeron had rapidly begun to disintegrate. The political structure was in chaos, and despite quarantines and the efforts of healers, the plague was still spreading rapidly. "Where did you live? Not in Stratholme, I assume?"

"No, my husband and I live a few miles down the road, and my parents and sister live in Tirisfal. Please, I am grateful for all of your help, truly I am, but I have to get back. I have to…" Summoner had gone numb all over, so he couldn't tell what his face looked like, but it must have been enough to stop her mid-thought. She was silent for a moment, then said very quietly, "What is it?"

Looking down to where his feet dangled halfway off the floor, the gnome reminded himself that he had done harder things than this before. He just couldn't remember what they were right now. He steeled himself and met the woman's gaze again. "All of the land within a twenty-mile radius of Stratholme belongs to the Scourge now. If anything there is still alive, it will not remain so for long. As for Tirisfal—" here Summoner shook his head "—it has been hit especially hard by the plague. King Terenas' forces are doing their best to contain it, but they are fighting a losing battle."

"You're lying."

"Excuse me?" Summoner's jaw dropped.

"You're trying to tell me that they're dead, right? I won't believe you, not unless I see it with my own eyes." The tenseness in her shoulders and the stubborn set of her mouth gave credence to her claim.

Summoner sighed and rubbed the place where the back of his head met his neck. He could feel a headache forming there. "All right. If you really want to see it with your own eyes, I might be able to arrange something."

* * *

Whew! That was a long chapter. Thanks for sticking through until the end :)

Okay, I know I said this chapter would get us out of the Warcraft III timeline, but I needed more time to wrap up some of the plot points around Kaya and her warlock-iness. Thus, the next chapter happens during WCIII, but after that, we move properly into WotLK (I promise!).

I'm not 100% satisfied with how this turned out, but I wanted to move on the rest of the story, so I posted it anyway. If you have any comments or suggestions, I would really appreciate hearing from you via a review/ private message.

"Minutus cantorem, minutus balorum, minutus carborata descendem pantorem. (A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down the pants.)"

--Worldomination


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Resolve**

Eight hours later, Summoner returned with Phangorg following behind him, the minion once more carrying the sleeping woman in its arms. She had fainted when the mage's scrying spell showed her what was left of her cottage. Summoner directed his minion to lay the woman—_Kaya_, Summoner reminded himself, _she said her name was Kaya_—on the bed, then sent the voidwalker back to its plane of origin.

_By the Titans, what a long day this turned out to be_, the gnome thought as he threw a spare blanket over Kaya. After her refusal to take Summoner's word on the state of Lordaeron, they had first made sure that she was physically strong enough to spend the day walking around Stormwind. That having been accomplished, their first stop was the census office of Stormwind, which kept track, via gryphon-courier, of quarantined towns, refugees, those known to be dead or Scourged, and those whose whereabouts were unknown. Their records were far from complete, but they were one of the best sources of information in the city. Kaya and Summoner had waited two hours to see one of the officials. He had looked harried, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but his voice when he delivered the bad news was as gentle as it could be: the village where Kaya grew up was one of the hardest hit by the plague. Her father and sister were both listed as known Scourge, and her mother numbered among the many dead.

Summoner had waited for Kaya to start crying, or to claim again that the information was false, but she seemed to have locked away all emotion. "What about my husband and daughter? Fallon and Aliana Driscoll? We lived about three miles from Stratholme."

"Ma'am, if you lived that close, it's highly unlikely…" The official realized his words were having no effect. He sighed and hunted through the files on his desk until he found one marked "Stratholme and Surrounding Areas: Do-Du." He flipped through the parchment within until he came to the right page. He ran his finger down the list of names and stopped about halfway down. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Fallon Driscoll is listed as deceased. Aliana Driscoll is listed as 'whereabouts unknown.'"

Kaya had remained silent as they left the census office. Summoner wanted to ask her if she was all right, if there was anything he could do to help, but he wasn't sure where to start. They were halfway back to the Mage Quarter when Kaya said, "I still need to see some kind of proof. I can't accept this based on rumors and records. I feel like this is just the worst nightmare of my life, and any moment, I'll wake up with Fallon next to me and Lia sleeping in the next room. I need—" her voice broke. Summoner looked up and realized tears were finally streaming down her face. "—I need to see something that makes this real for me, terrible though it might be."

Summoner had expected as much. He led her to a small shop in the Mage Quarter, where a mage with a talent for scrying owed him a favor. Luckily for them, the mage agreed to help, and he led Kaya to a back room. The walls were lined with racks of maps, and in the center of the room was a large basin full of clear water. The mage pulled down a map and handed it to Kaya. He asked her to point out, as accurately as she could, the location of her cottage. When she had done so, the mage went over to the scrying bowl and began to chant. Slowly, ripples formed on the surface of the water, then dissipated. In their wake came an image of a land which had succumbed completely to disease. The vegetation was sickly or mutated beyond recognition, the animals were even worse, and the air itself seemed to consist of nothing but smoke and toxic-green fumes.

"I can't focus on your cottage on my own," the mage said. "This is just the surrounding area. Come over here. Close your eyes, dip your fingers in the water, and concentrate on your home. I'll tell you when to look."

Kaya did as she had been directed, and Summoner watched as the first image disappeared and another took its place. This one was both more vivid and more terrible than the first: the structure which was its focal point was still recognizably a home, but it had been badly damaged by fire. The roof had caved in; what was left of the walls was either scorched black or covered in a slimy green mold that looked like a condensed version of the miasma which floated through the air. The worst part of this image, however, was the thing that was pawing through the wreckage. It, like the house, had once belonged to the human world, but its body had been twisted by the plague into something monstrous. It looked, Summoner realized, like an even more decayed version of the corpse-woman he had seen in Stratholme. The mage looked as though he was going to be sick, but he nevertheless told Kaya to open her eyes.

She stared at the image for a moment and then whispered, "Lia…Fallon…no." Then she fainted, and the scrying bowl went black.

After bringing her back to his lodgings, Summoner had watched Kaya sleep for almost half an hour. Finally, he went down to the kitchen to make something to eat. He hadn't had anything since that morning, and he was starving.

He had just started in on a bowl of Westfall stew when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He watched, his spoon halfway to his mouth, as Kaya walked into the room and sat down next to him. Her eyes were red and her face was still wet, but she had stopped crying. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but steady.

"I've been thinking," she began. "Fallon is dead. Eventually, I'll be able to accept that, but Lia…I _know_ she's alive, and I won't be able to rest until I find her. In order to do that, I'll need to travel through dangerous places, but I don't want to depend on others to protect me."

Summoner knew where this was going. "Kaya, you don't have to do this. I will help you find your daughter if you wish."

She shook her head emphatically. "You don't understand. If Fallon is gone, and the world is falling apart around us…I'll be all she has left. Once I find her, I want to be able to protect her. You told me earlier today that I have the power to do that, if I'm willing to accept it. Well, here I am, accepting it." For the first time since coming downstairs, Kaya met Summoner's eyes. "Please, train me."

The diminutive warlock looked down into the remainder of his stew, hoping in vain that it would hold some kind of answer to his dilemma. The woman sitting next to him certainly had the required talent, but he was hesitant to agree to her request. He really didn't have time for another apprentice, and there were other issues…"Are you sure that's what you want? The training itself is extremely challenging, and many warlocks have fallen victim to their own powers or minions during the process. Even if you succeed, many will shun you because of the magic you wield. That ostracism might extend to Lia, when you find her. Do you have the resolve to deal with the repercussions of this decision?"

"I do."

"Very well, then. Have some stew, then see if you can get any more sleep tonight. You'll need your strength—the training begins tomorrow."

* * *

Okay, so this is really just a continuation of chapter three, but I didn't want to upload an almost-4,000-word chapter again (Chapter One was something like 3,900). Same as with Chapter three, I'm not totally satisfied with the end result, so I would appreciate hearing from anyone with reviews or private messages. Specifically, I feel like I'm not doing enough characterization. These first few chapters were more about getting the plot set up, but I'm wondering if I should go back and add more of the characters' thoughts and emotions. What's your opinion?

"One martini, two martini, three martini, floor."

--Worldomination


	5. Chapter 5

Holy cow, it's been a long time since I updated this. My most sincere and humble apologies to anyone who was waiting for an update; I made the mistake of starting another story before I finished this one, and it kind of took over my life. Anyway, Kaya and company are finally back! For readers both old and new, I hope you enjoy the story. Please read and review!

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Best-Laid Plans**

_Spring, Year 623 of the King's Calendar_

Kaya stretched her arms above her head to work some of the soreness out of her back. She was finally finished unpacking, but all of the bending and lifting had made her aware of how overtaxed her muscles still were. Outland had given her some much needed experience and exponentially better gear, but it had also been hard on her body. Aside from the normal strain a warlock's body suffered from Life Taps and everyday training, Kaya had been burned in Hellfire Peninsula, poisoned in Nagrand, and impaled in Shadowmoon Valley. Though the healers claimed they had returned her to normal, she still tired easily and woke up sore every morning. Now that she was back in Stormwind, she wanted to rest, but there wasn't time. Summoner had convinced her to go to Outland on the pretext that Lia's guardians, whoever they were, might have taken the girl there with them. After questioning everyone at every Alliance or faction-neutral post on the shattered world, Kaya and her teacher were forced to admit that this was not the case. It was time to once again take up the search back home on Azeroth.

Kaya sat down at the desk in her small bedroom and began making a list of the places she wanted to visit before the end of the day. First were the inn and the major shops of the Trade district, then the residential areas in Old Town. Perhaps while she was there she would stop in at SI:7 and see if any rogues were looking for work. Stormwind was a large city, and she could use some help searching it…

She was almost finished with her list when she heard someone knocking on the door to her apartment. Setting her list aside, she rose and opened the door to find Summoner and Ranulf waiting on the other side. Unlike Kaya, both were dressed in their formal robes, and both had their staves and wands. Ranulf looked even paler than usual, and Summoner's face, when he turned it up to Kaya's, was grim.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" Kaya's first thought was that they had discovered something about Lia, but there would be no reason for them to be armed and formally dressed if that were the case. It had to be something else.

"Blackstone has called a meeting at the Slaughtered Lamb. Something about an expedition to Northrend. The higher-ups have 'requested' that everyone of the appropriate power level attend. Sesca is already there." Summoner frowned as though the name left a bad taste in his mouth.

Kaya swore. Cassius Blackstone was a truly repellent man. Outwardly, he was an attractive, fair-complexioned man in his mid-thirties. Inwardly, he was every bit as devious and sadistic as his favorite succubus minion. Despite his poisonous personality, he had still managed to weasel his way into the good graces of the "higher-ups," as Summoner called them. Blackstone had been petitioning them for months for permission to head a voyage to Northrend, and it seemed as though that permission had finally been granted. To top it all off, Sesca seemed to have fallen under the bastard's spell. As soon as Summoner and his students had returned from Outland, she had moved out of her previous quarters and into Blackstone's. Ranulf and Kaya had both heaved private sighs of relief—the less they had to deal with their fellow student, the better—but Summoner, as one of Blackstone's most vocal opponents, had seen it as a betrayal.

Looking at the list in her hand, then back at her trainer, Kaya said, "Is there any way I could skip this particular meeting? This is the first day I've felt well enough to look for Lia, and I have so much to do…"

Summoner shook his head. "I know you're anxious to get started, and I'll even help you begin your search—but only after the meeting. I need your support; you're one of the only others of our kind who shares my opinion of Blackstone. Besides, you'll need to know the outcome of the meeting, and you ought to have a say in whatever decision is made. There is a very good chance the higher-ups will order us all to Northrend under Blackstone's command."

"You promise you'll help me look after the meeting?"

Summoner nodded gravely and looked at his male apprentice. "Ranulf will help, too. Isn't that right, Ranulf?"

"What? Oh, of course. Certainly I'll help." Though the human's words were eager, his expression was as twitchy and nerve-wracked as always.

"Very well, then. Give me a few moments to change." Kaya closed the door and set to work unearthing the formal robes she had just finished putting away.

The basement of the Slaughtered Lamb was crowded with humans, gnomes, and a few minions here and there. The bonfire which normally roared in the center of the cellar was doused for now, and the room was lit only by smoky torches set in brackets in the walls. Summoner had agreed to suffer the indignity of sitting on Ranulf's shoulders, the better to see and hear what was going on, but his perch wasn't doing him much good. The moment Blackstone, with Sesca at his side, had proclaimed that his expedition to Northrend would leave in a week, the room had erupted with questions, demands, offers of assistance, and even a cheer here or there.

Demisette Cloyce, arguably the leader of the warlocks of Stormwind (no warlock would ever admit to submitting to another's will, but when Demisette spoke, others listened), raised her arms and called for silence. "Enough! What are you all, acolytes?" When the room was quiet once more, she continued, "Now then, most of the details have already been decided. As brother Blackstone said, we have arranged passage on a ship to Northrend, departing in a week's time. If necessary, a second mission will follow two weeks after that. Behind me is a list of those assigned to the first voyage and those who will be asked to remain in Stormwind until we can determine whether we will go through with the second expedition. This is an extraordinarily dangerous voyage, and as such, no one below seventieth rank received an assignment." Though there was some grumbling at this announcement, none of those assembled had really expected any different; Northrend had earned a reputation as a place which defeated even the greatest of heroes. "To those of you who have received an assignment: I should not have to remind you that this is an opportunity, not just for increased power or fame—no, this is an opportunity to show the whole of the Alliance what we are capable of." Her eyes traveled around the room, both warning and challenging every gaze they met. "Make me proud, but more than that, make yourselves proud." She nodded once, and without saying anything more, disappeared down the steps which led into the crypt.

"Is…is that it?" Ranulf said, putting into words the thought which had occurred to the rest of the room.

"Yes, blast it all." Summoner's looked as though he wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum of frightening proportions, but he kept his voice low. "The bastards _assigned_ us as if we were…paladins"—he spat the word as if it were the worst epithet he could come up with—"ready to drop into rank and file at their merest whim." He made a visible effort to calm himself, then said to Kaya, "Forgive me for pulling you from your plans. I honestly thought the higher-ups would allow us at least a semblance of control over today's events. More the fool me. Give me a moment to check their damned lists, and then we will help you begin your search."

Kaya looked at the crush of bodies near the list, then at her diminutive teacher. His short stature in no way kept him from wielding demonic power with skill and accuracy, but it did make everyday situations like crowds that much more complicated. If Summoner tried to look at the lists, there was a good chance he would be stepped on. With all the diplomacy she could muster, Kaya said, "Why don't I look? Sesca seems to have posted herself next to the list, and I know you don't want to encounter her."

Summoner grimaced, either because of the mention of his former student or because he saw through Kaya's excuse, and gave her a "go ahead" gesture. Mentally girding her loins, Kaya pushed through the crowds and prayed that she would somehow avoid a confrontation with Sesca. _Then again,_ she thought, _when has any entity ever answered my prayers?_

Sure enough, as soon as Sesca caught sight of Kaya she moved in for the kill. Kaya didn't even get the chance to glance at the lists before Sesca drawled, "Well, if it isn't my old friend 'Chaos' herself. You know, for all the hype surrounding you when we first came to Stormwind, the higher-ups must not be very impressed now. You only made it onto the secondary mission, and then only because they knew Summoner wouldn't go without you."

Ignoring the urge to slap the sneer off Sesca's face, Kaya said as neutrally as possible, "I'm sure their choices for different assignments are sound. They do not usually make these decisions lightly. This turn of events actually suits me rather well, since the delay between voyages will give me more time to search for my daughter. My hope is that the first mission succeeds and makes the second unnecessary. To be perfectly honest, I find the thought of going to Northrend rather terrifying."

Sesca's eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't tell me you're _still_ looking for that brat?"

"Of course I'm still looking for her. Would you have me abandon my only child?"

The former apprentice's features twisted in anger and disgust. "She's _dead_, Kaya. You will never find her because there's nothing left to be found. The sooner you realize that and move on, the sooner you'll finally reach your full potential." With that, she turned on her heel and moved off through the crowd.

Kaya tried to summon some amount of righteous anger at Sesca's harsh words, but all she could manage was a sort of weary unease. Sesca had made it clear from the beginning that she was jealous of Kaya's power and thought the search for Lia was a fool's errand. This encounter was similar to previous ones, but the subtle differences made Kaya edgy. Surely if Sesca was jealous of Kaya's powers, she wouldn't be pushing her rival to "meet her full potential"?

Shaking off her thoughts, Kaya finally checked the lists. Sure enough, she, Summoner, and Ranulf had all been assigned to the second expedition. She made her way back to her trainer and delivered the news.

Predictably, Summoner cursed and grumbled under his breath, and Ranulf started shaking; however, Kaya could not have predicted what happened next. As she watched, Ranulf went totally still. His breathing stopped, and he stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on something only he could see. His hands slowly clenched into fists, and he whispered, almost too low to hear, "I'm going to Northrend? Already? But…but I'm not ready…" Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled, unconscious, to the floor.

Summoner just barely managed to jump out of the way in time. "Aaarrgh!" The gnome glared, hands fisted at his sides, at his unconscious student, then started cursing vehemently in Orcish. Finally, the cursing wound down, and he looked up at Kaya. "There are days—many of them, in fact—when I can't help but wonder how this ninny could have possibly survived this long as a warlock. Just when I think he's grown a backbone at last, he goes and does something like this."

Kaya privately agreed with her teacher, but couldn't quite bring herself to say so out loud. Instead she said, "Let me go see if I can find someone to help us carry him upstairs. We'll try and wake him up there." Summoner nodded, and a few minutes later, with the help of some of their burlier companions, they had Ranulf slumped in one of the chairs in the Slaughtered Lamb's main room.

"I talked to Jarel. He went into the back to see if he has any smelling salts." Summoner hopped up into the chair across from Ranulf, and Kaya seated herself next to him. After a silent moment, Summoner asked, "So, where did you want to start looking for Lia?"

Kaya took a deep breath. "I thought I'd go to the Trade District first, maybe have some posters made. After that, I wanted to go to Old Town and see if I could hire someone to help with the search."

Summoner scratched his receding hairline. "I know someone who might be able to help with the poster. Did you want a picture of Lia on it?"

Kaya hesitated, then confided, "That's actually something I've been worried about. When I started this search, I knew exactly what I was looking for, but now…she could have changed so much in the past six years. I'm—" she gave one short, mirthless chuckle "—I'm not even sure I'd recognize her if I ran into her on the street." She looked over, hoping her teacher would have some advice or comfort to give, but he seemed at a loss for words. Kaya thought back to the last time she had seen her daughter. The toddler's face would have lost some of its roundness, and the medium-brown curls might have darkened to match Fallon's hair or lightened to match Kaya's. Lia had closely resembled Kaya's sister, Julenna, at the same age, but that could have changed.

The silence dragged on for a few minutes as Summoner and Kaya thought over what she had said. It was Jarel, the barkeeper, who finally broke it.

"You there! Little girl! No children allowed in the tavern. You'll have to leave."

Kaya looked toward the door, and for a moment, time seemed to stop all together. _It can't be_, she thought to herself. _After all these years, for it to be that easy…it couldn't be her._

But it was.

It was Lia.

* * *

FINALLY, we've found her! Huzzah!

I'm thinking the next chapter should be from Lia's perspective...Maybe. We'll see.

Also, it might be a while before I can get the next section of this done. Now that school has started up again, I spend most of my time doing academic writing :( Still, I'll do as much as I can with it.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely...But it rocks absolutely, too."

-Worldomination


End file.
